


Of Oreo Cookies, Terrible Mothers, and Upscale Strip Clubs, Oh My!

by ruff_ethereal



Series: Awfully Awkward Artist, Flirty Nude Model [3]
Category: Descendants (2015)
Genre: Abusive Parents, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Explicit Language, F/F, Mild Language, Strippers & Strip Clubs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-11-06 02:54:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11027118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruff_ethereal/pseuds/ruff_ethereal
Summary: Evie and Mal enjoy eating Oreo cookies whilst completely naked, or in a shirt and her baby dragon print panties. But a visit from Maleficent prompts a hunt for alcohol, and a lot of learning about each other along the way.





	Of Oreo Cookies, Terrible Mothers, and Upscale Strip Clubs, Oh My!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ParanoidSeat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ParanoidSeat/gifts), [radiowrittenheart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/radiowrittenheart/gifts).



> Thank the Yuri Goddess for finally getting my ass in gear for this. A year later, the sequel you've all been waiting for, and the finale to this series started on a lark.
> 
> Warning: Maleficent being an awful, terrible, abusive mother here, along with implications that Evil Queen definitely isn't a saint, either.

Mal never quite realized that watching someone eating Oreo cookies could be so alluring and distracting, though she supposed Evie being completely naked had plenty to do with that.

She’d pick a cookie up with her elegant, perfectly-manicured hands, her fingernails an alluring navy blue like her hair. She’d gently twist the two cookie halves apart so they wouldn’t break, put it up to her mouth, and give the cream slow, loving lick, before she put the top cookie back on, dipped a third of it into her milk. She’d let it drip for a moment before opened her mouth and took a small, careful bite.

_Crack._

Of the things Mal never thought turn on her on so much, “hot girl eating Oreo cookies” was now on the top of the list.

Evie smiled at her as she chewed, a trace of black crumbs on those lovely red lips of hers, now curled into a knowing smile. She rested one bare arm on the kitchen island, the other holding her partially eaten Oreo over the other cookies on her plate.

Normally, when someone was looking at her a little too intensely for her comfort, Mal would have harsh words on a hair trigger, but under the intense and not-unpleasant experience of Evie eye-fucking her, she was helpless to do anything but stand there, steadily feeling her legs turn to jelly once more, sweat drip down her face, and become increasingly thankful that she’d slouched over the counter beforehand.

Evie swallowed, Mal felt a lump form in her own throat.

“Not hungry…?” Evie asked.

Mal blinked, her mouth opened, but no sound came out, just drool trickling down the side of her mouth. With all the grace and subtlety of a Beluga whale accidentally air-dropped through the roof of Penn Station in the middle of the morning rush, she wiped it on the back of her hand, and asked,

“What makes you say that?”

Evie gave a pointed look downwards.

Mal followed her gaze, found her own plate of Oreos and glass of milk completely untouched, save for a spot of drool that had landed over the cookies. “… Ah.”

“We’re _really_ going to need to work on that,” Evie said as she dipped her cookie into her milk again. “Much as I enjoy your staring and drooling over me, I’d rather that be exclusively for when we’re in private, and not somewhere public like dinner at a restaurant,” she said, letting it drip once more before took another bite.

_Crack._

Mal bit her lip and blushed. “… Uh, not to say I don’t like the idea, but going out to dinner doesn’t really seem like something we’ll be doing because I’m still a broke art student, and all...”

Evie smirked as she chewed. “And you assume either of us have to foot the bill,” she said after she’d swallowed. “I’m _very_ well-connected, Mal: what people can’t pay me in cash, they offer in favours, discounts, and free products and service. Not to mention all the gifts I get all the time from people who think they can buy my affection.”

“I never realized the nude modeling industry was so conducive to networking…” Mal muttered.

“… It’s actually from my main job,” Evie replied carefully. “The modeling’s just a sideline.”

“And that would be…?”

Evie hesitated, looking genuinely uneasy and worried for the first time in Mal’s memory. She was about to tell her she could not answer if she didn’t want to, when there was a knocking on her door.

Mal frowned.

“Forgot you were having someone else over today?” Evie asked.

Mal sighed heavily. “No, but I’ll bet every dollar to my name that it’s who I think it is. Much as I’d _love_ to keep having you walking about my place butt naked, could you get dressed? My mother’s already got enough criticisms about my life choices as is.”

Evie nodded in understanding. “I’ll go get dressed. And Mal? Good luck.”

Mal smiled. “Thanks.” She turned around and reluctantly made for the door. “I’m _seriously_ going to need it...”

The knocking continued, getting more and more insistent as the seconds passed by that Mal hadn’t opened it. She debated keeping her mother waiting for a couple moments longer, before she figured that the short term pleasure of pissing her off even more than she usually did was not worth the corresponding retribution, especially with Evie around to witness it.

There were already _far_ too many unwitting witnesses to the ugliest sides of Mal’s life for her liking.

She put her hand on the doorknob, and suddenly remembered that she was still pantsless, and wearing her baby dragon panties. She paused for a moment, then shrugged. “Fuck it! It’s not like you aren’t already a huge disappointment in her eyes...” Mal muttered as she put on her “polite smile,” and opened the door.

Outside was her mother, Maleficent Harte, one of the most shrewd and successful businesswomen the world had ever seen, famed for being the daughter of European immigrants who fought years of discrimination, poverty, and her grandparents’ unfortunately poor grasp of English to become the almighty CEO that her former superiors and tormentors were now bowing in fear to, and were at the mercy of.

She took one look at Mal, and her perennial look of disgust and disdain for everything and everyone grew even more offended. “Mal,” Maleficent said flatly.

“Mom,” Mal replied with just as much enthusiasm. “What brings you here?”

“Can’t a mother drop by her own daughter’s apartment on a whim? _Especially_ if she’s paying for it, and the contract is in her name...” Maleficent said.

Mal sighed, stepped aside, and limply gestured inwards. “Please, mother, come in— _forgive me_ for the mess, I would have cleaned up if I knew you were coming.”

“Like you’d actually be able to make a dent in this disaster zone,” Maleficent huffed as she strode in like royalty. “ _Honestly,_ Mal, this apartment was _so_ lovely when we first got it! That you’d just let it all go to hell like this and fill it up with so much _rubbish_ is just depressing.”

Mal scowled as she closed the door after her. “This ‘rubbish’ is my _art_ , mother.”

“Up until I see them hanging in a professional gallery being fawned upon by respectable persons, or you actually start making a profit of these, they’ll be rubbish to me as they were rubbish to me then,” Maleficent said. “How are you wasting your precious youth now, by the way?”

Mal seethed, shut her mouth, and slowly counted to ten. “Figure drawing, mother, I’m practicing figure drawing,” she said. “You know, people? The ones you keep ignoring when you do business?”

“Oh?” Maleficent raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Back to your porn habit again, are we?”

“She’s actually practicing with live models, like any serious student should,” Evie added as she walked into the living room, fully-clothed and her hair fixed up. “My name is--”

“Elvira Kron?” Maleficent said.

Evie blinked. “Uh… yes, yes it is, ma’am.”

Mal looked at Maleficent, at Evie, then back at her. “You know her…?”

“Not directly, but her mother speaks highly of and simultaneously laments her life choices so often it’s _unfortunately_ **extremely** difficult to be unaware of the fact that her child _also_ turned out a disappointment, much like yourself,” Maleficent replied, before she turned to Evie. “She got quite the bachelor in mind, if you’re interested: Anthony Tremaine.”

Evie’s mouth twitched. “I’m not, so please save yourself the trouble of explaining, ma’am.”

“Oh, but _I insist!”_ Maleficent trilled. “He’s a bit broody and snobbish, if you ask me, but the man holds a bright future in politics after he gets his law degree; I hear he’s already being praised as an _excellent_ loophole finder in business law.

“Quite the catch, and certainly one you shouldn’t let loose for some other, more prudent girl to take for her own,” she said, eyeing Mal conspicuously.

“Oh _for fuck’s sake!_ Did you just come here to insult me and criticize my life choices, or was there anything actually _productive_ you wanted do besides that?”

Maleficent feigned offense. “Mal, Mal, _Mal!_ Don’t you believe your own mother when she says she just wanted to see you, nothing more?”

“Given your track record, I think it’s pretty fair to assume you’re spouting bullshit more often than the truth,” Mal said through gritted teeth.

Maleficent marched on to Mal and narrowed her eyes, her infamous “evil eyes” on full display. _“Don’t talk to your mother like that,”_ she growled.

Mal glared back, locking with those emerald eyes like hers, standing tall and staring back just as hard.

But, as always, she flinched and looked away first.

“Apologize,” Maleficent growled. _“_ _Now.”_

“I’m sorry, mother,” Mal said, not sounding the least bit sorry.

Maleficent’s eyes flared, her arm reflexively twitched and began to move. She stopped as she remembered that Evie was in the room, watching them with an unreadable expression. “You seem tired, Mal,” she said as she lowered her arm. “How about you come to my office tomorrow morning when you’re well and rested so you can apologize properly?

“I’ll even save you the trouble of having to go through the bank to cash this month’s check.”

Mal sighed in defeat. “What time...?”

“I’m afraid I’m incredibly busy with such vast amounts of _important_ appointments and meetings I simply can’t reschedule, so 5:30 AM will be the only time I’m free!” Maleficent said. She narrowed her eyes. “That won’t be a problem, will it?”

Mal looked down. “No...” she muttered.

“ _Look me in the eyes when you speak to me, Mal,”_ Maleficent said coolly. “And don’t give me those half-hearted ‘Yeah’s’ and ‘No’s,’ you’re not a broody teenager anymore, you’re _an adult_ —act like one!”

Mal reluctantly did. “No, it won’t be a problem, mother.”

“ _Better!”_ Maleficent hummed. “I’m afraid I have to go now—work to be done still, and time is money. Farewell, Mal!” she said, haughtily waving goodbye before she strode on out.

Mal hurried to the door and opened it for her. When Maleficent was a good distance down the hall, she slammed it shut, she put her back to it, and sighed.

Evie frowned as she came up to her. “You okay…?”

“I am _so_ sorry you had to see all that,” Mal said, her eyes squeezed.

“It’s fine, it’s not the first time it’s ever happened to me, or someone else I knew,” Evie replied.

“Doesn’t make it any less shitty! If anything, that just makes it _worse!”_

Evie pointed back to the kitchen. “You want to go get back to those Oreos?”

Mal sighed, and started trudging back. “Yes...”

This time, instead of staring at Evie, she picked up an entire Oreo and it into her mouth dry, feeling it crunch and break it into little jagged pieces, washing it down with her milk before she did it all over again.

Evie resumed eating hers, as daintily and carefully as earlier. The conversation stopping until their plates and glasses were empty.

“You want to go back to drawing me?” Evie asked.

Mal groaned as she collected the empty plates and glasses. “What I want is a drink or several,” she grumbled as she put them in the sink.

Evie chuckled. “Lucky you then that I can score them free at my main job.”

“What _do_ you do to pay most of your bills?” Mal asked as she rinsed them out.

Evie bit her lip. “Promise you won’t judge?”

“Evie, you’ve been completely cool with me, I’ll be completely cool with you. I’ll be a bitch otherwise, and not the kinds I’m fine with being.”

Evie smiled, before she looked away uneasily. “… I… work as an exotic dancer at an adult entertainment club,” she said quietly.

Mal blinked. She turned off the faucet and slowly looked over her shoulder, her cheeks burning red. “You work as a stripper at a club…?”

Evie shrugged. “Mother put me through put me through years of ballet and gymnastics, thought I might actually get some use out of them after all this time,” She looked at Mal and smiled hopefully. “That won’t be a problem, will it…?”

“Shit no!” Mal said as she turned around. “Look, Evie, I may not be living the full ‘broke college student’ experience since I don’t need to work every odd job I can just to make rent, but I know that when you have to pay the bills _and_ study for exams, you do whatever has the best pay/time ratio!

“… Besides, I think it’s pretty hot that you’re a, uh, you know... ‘exotic dancer at an adult entertainment club,’” she said as she awkwardly dried her hands on a towel.

Evie stared at her, before she smiled.

Mal felt her heart start to race and her legs turn to jelly all over again. “… Can I, you know, see you at work some time?” she asked as she put the towel back on the rack.

“Flattering and appealing as that is, it’s an upscale place, there’s a hefty membership fee, and our garters tend to be lined with Franklins. They’ll let you in, but that’s only because it’s it the middle of the day and you’re with me.”

Mal nodded. “How about a private show sometime, then?” she asked, smiling hopefully.

Evie chuckled. “I like you, Mal. But I don’t like you that much just yet.”

“Got it. Anything I should know about this deal?” she asked as she returned to the island

“You’ll have to get them served by our bartender Zevon, and he can get a little bit… eccentric.”

“No shit,” Mal said as she slouched on the counter again. “Who the fuck calls himself ‘Zevon’? Guy’s just _begging_ to get his ass kicked with an alias like that.”

“It’s his real name,” Evie said.

Mal blinked. _“_ _Wow_ _,_ and I thought _my_ mother had awful taste in names… how bad is he, exactly?”

“Not that much, compared to all the other attitude problems and issues I’ve seen, but he thinks _really_ highly of himself.”

“So he’s an arrogant douchebag, is what you’re saying?”

“Precisely.”

“Jesus fuck, Evie, you can call people whatever you like around me with whatever words pop into your mind, you don’t need to censor yourself.”

Evie shrugged. “Force of habit. Besides, I find it makes it so that when I _do_ curse it has a much bigger impact.”

“Fair enough. So how are we going to get there? Unless this club happens to be within walking distance, and I’ve been completely unaware of its existence up until today.”

“Same way I do: hitch a ride with my friend Jay,” Evie said as she pulled out her phone. “He’s basically my part-time personal driver.”

“Will he do morning commutes every once in a while?” Mal asked. “Canvases are pretty hard to haul on the bus.”

Evie shook her head. “He hates them with a passion, sorry. If it’s any consolation, if you need to get somewhere that’s underground and unadvertised, he knows where all of them are, how to get there fast, and who to know to get in.”

Mal nodded sadly. “Ah well, it was worth a shot. Anything you want to do to kill time until he gets here?”

Evie smiled. “Want me to strip naked again and just hang out and talk? You’ll have to keep your pants off and lose your shirt, though.”

Mal’s face exploded in flames. “… I… uh… sure,” she said before she pulled her shirt off.

Evie gasped. “Aww, you’ve a bra to match the panties, too! That’s _adorable!”_

* * *

The car Jay rode in was a sleek, all-black luxury model bought that year or three before, flashy enough to show that whoever was riding in it had money and wanted to show it as they rode up to the doors of an exclusive club, but inconspicuous enough that it wouldn’t catch every eye on the street as they made a discrete exit from a less reputable business.

The man himself had that same duality: shined leather shoes and well-fitted suit jacket, like a personal driver for the rich, the famous, or the ones wanting to look like they were; alongside long black hair and a mischievous aura about him, like a driver who knew just what you were looking for if you were in the mood for a less-than-legal night out.

He had an amused smirk on his face as Mal and Evie walked down from the front of her building, Evie still looking radiant with her head held up high and a pleased smile on her face, Mal slouching and shifting her favourite purple jacket up to hide her blushing face from non-existent onlookers.

He said nothing as he went around the car and opened the backdoor for them with a bow, but the discrete wink he gave them spoke volumes.

Evie giggled, while Mal scowled at him, cheeks burning even brighter red.

“So, where to, ladies?” Jay asked as he slipped back into the driver’s seat.

Evie smiled, and was about to reply, when her phone started ringing.

From the sound of some classic piano arrangement that was elegant yet vaguely ominous, and the way her face fell, Mal wasn’t too surprised when she excused herself, got out of the car, and walked off to some discreet corner of the sidewalk to answer it.

Mal figured this should have been the point where she should have given Evie a reassuring touch or a meaningful look, but all she managed was awkwardly shifting around to make way for her.

It was uncomfortably quiet inside the car, before Jay unbuckled his seatbelt, turned around to the backseat, and offered his hand. “Hey, name’s Jay!” he said, with smile. “I’m Evie’s friend, and part-time personal driver, in case she hasn’t told you yet.”

Mal looked at his hand, then at his face, before she reluctantly took it. “Mal,” she said.

His grip was firm, confident, and strong, one that almost made her feel bad for the limp, weak, “technically holding your hand and nothing more” shake she gave back.

If Jay noticed, he wasn’t that bothered. “So, I take it you’re Evie’s newest girlfriend?” he asked as he took his hand back.

Mal blushed. “I’m not sure, but the answer’s ‘probably not.’ It’s been like, what, a life drawing class, and three hours of hanging around in my house? And why you do you want to know, huh?”

“I don’t want to get either of you mad, is why!” Jay replied. “With all the hot girls Evie’s rolled with in my backseat, it gets kinda hard to tell who’s a friend, who’s a girlfriend, and who might be a sexy cousin she’s showing around town.

“She’s slapped me so many times I can see the imprints of her hand if the light’s right and I turn my head just so.”

Mal nodded, then frowned. “… So I’m guessing she dates a lot?”

Jay nodded. “Feels like every couple of months she’s got a new lady in her life. If all of them weren’t hot as hell AND with a helluva personality beside, I’d have trouble remembering their names and faces.”

Mal blinked. “… Oh….”

Jay smiled. “Don’t put too much stock in it, I guess it’s just the way things are with gals like her: live fast, and love hard.” He put his hand over his heart. “And Never-Was-A-Scout’s Honour that all of those girlfriends were as serious as serious gets.”

“Sorry if I find that kinda hard to believe...” Mal said.

“Hey, how long two people are together isn’t a reliable indicator about how into each other they are—just ask any divorce lawyer.”

Mal chuckled. “Fair point.”

Jay spotted Evie coming back from the rear windshield, and climbed back into the driver’s seat. “It’s probably why she decided to step out of her usual circles and date you—unless you happen to be part of some obscure alternative adult entertainer/sex worker group I haven’t heard about yet,” he said jokingly, smiling at Mal through her reflection in the rearview mirror.

Mal blushed and scowled at him back, about to fire off some choice words before Evie opened the door and slid back in.

“I’m back, and ready to go!” she said, all smiles and sunshine. “Sorry about that, phone call that I really had to take…” she muttered, her voice losing a good bit of its cheer.

Mal gave her a concerned look. “You okay?”

Evie smiled at her. “I will be after we both get those drinks I promised,” she replied.

Jay grimaced. “Guess this means we’re going to the club...?”

“As fast as you legally can, Jay~” Evie hummed.

Jay sighed. “Buckle up, ladies, we’re going for a ride,” he said flatly as he started the engine and turned on the radio.

“Something up with this club I should know about?” Mal asked as the car filled with the sound of rock, metal, and punk.

“My _m_ _ama_ owns and manages the place…” Jay replied as he pulled out of the curb.

“Shit, you’d think a guy like you would be happy you’ve got that kind of access.”

“Not when my mom used to work the pole, and people are still begging her to make a comeback…” Jay grumbled.

Mal’s eyes widened. “Ah.”

“ _So!”_ Jay said. “How’d you and E meet, anyway? She’s always sparse on the details.”

“She was the nude model for my life drawing class,” Mal replied. “I flailed uselessly the entire time because she’s stupidly hot, and apparently that was attractive to her than a warning sign that I am a giant, socially awkward trainwreck, and she offered to go pose just for me, for a vague form of payment.

“In a surprising turn of events, she actually showed up like she said she would, she’s somehow still interested in me, and now here we are.”

Jay nodded. “Yeah, sounds about right,” he said, his eyes on the road as he began to leave the main streets and start taking a series of twisting shortcuts.

“So, how’d you two meet?” Mal asked.

“Eh, since I’ve already told you, my mom has me on-call for getting the ladies to and from the club, or sometimes smuggling in and/or out certain clients that would rather be discrete about their being there. Evie happens to be one of our headliners and most popular ladies beside, so mom does everything in her power to keep her on, like making me her part-time personal driver.

“Wasn’t too hot on the job at first, but Evie’s pretty awesome.” Jay smiled. “All the favours and the sweet stuff I can get from her, too.”

Evie chuckled. “It’s mostly our security chief Carlos passing on the info—I’m just the pretty face relaying it to them.”

Mal nodded. “None of that ‘stuff’ would happen to be illegal, would it? Not gonna report you guys, but I’d rather my mother not be able to lord over my head my being charged as unwitting accessory to a crime.”

“This car is _clean,_ trust me,” Jay said. “This gig is my going on the straight and narrow, and I plan to keep it that way.”

“So just the hookers, and none of the blow?” Mal asked jokingly.

Jay slowly pulled the car to the side of the alleyway they were driving through, unbuckled his seatbelt, and turned around to look at Mal; his mouth curled into a scowl, his eyes sharp, and his voice cold as he said, _“_ _Unlike my last boss,_ my mom runs her business completely by the book, and I’d appreciate it if you don’t assume that she’s up to something criminal and corrupt just because she runs a strip club.”

Mal blinked, and frowned. “Okay. Sorry. I mean it.”

Jay relaxed, and turned back to the road. “Apology accepted. Just don’t do it again, alright?” he said as he buckled back in.

“I won’t, I promise,” Mal said.

Jay smiled at through the rearview mirror. “Thanks. I mean it,” he said, before he continued driving.

“FYI, I don’t mind being mistaken for a prostitute myself, but a lot of the other girls are very clear and firm about what you can call them,” Evie said. “Unless you’re _definitely_ sure, stick to ‘adult entertainer’ unless you want to find out first-hand what it’s like to get ripped apart by them.”

“And also FYI, save yourself the suffering and just trust me when I say that it _really_ fucking sucks,” Jay added.

Mal nodded. There was a brief moment of silence but for the music still playing on the radio at a comfortably low volume.

“You can ask how I became a stripper, Mal,” Evie said. “I trust you won’t spill.”

Mal turned to her. “So, uh, how _did_ you become a stripper?”

Evie smiled mischievously. “Would you believe me if I said it was because of my mom?”

“You’re shitting me.” Mal said. She paused. “You’re shitting me, right…?”

Evie laughed. “I’m not.”

Mal looked at Jay in the rearview mirror. “Is she?”

“She’s not,” Jay said as he spared her a glance.

Mal turned back to Evie. “Okay, this I gotta hear: I thought my mom said your mom kept complaining to everyone within earshot about about how she wants you back so you can marry you off to some rich dude looking for a trophy wife.

“How does she end up getting her daughter into the adult entertainment business?”

“It was a few years back, when she finally found out about all the wild parties and the guys—and eventually, girls—I was going to and going out with under her nose for most of my teenage years and college,” Evie replied. “She decided I needed to be scared straight, see the ‘sordid underbelly of the world’ first-hand, and got me a job serving guests at the Desert Rose—that’s the name of the club.

“I’m pretty sure her intention was to turn me off the nightlife permanently, but thankfully, Kalila, my boss and Jay’s mom, decided to take me under her wing, fend off the worst, and show me it isn’t all that bad—the money is excellent, for one.”

“My _mama’s_ basically a mom to all the ladies,” Jay added. “It’s all I can do to stop her from legally adopting all of them.”

“So she bakes you all chocolate chip cookies, and serves them up with milk?” Mal asked jokingly.

“She buys them from a bakery in bulk, and the bottles are full of wine, actually,” Evie replied in all seriousness.

Mal stared at her for a few moments, before she turned to Jay.

“She does,” he replied, also serious.

Mal turned back to Evie. “I’m not getting shanghaied into meeting your boss/surrogate mom, am I? Because honestly, I would like to meet her, but I’ve kinda had enough of mothers in general today.”

“You’re good,” Evie replied. “She generally stays away from the club until opening time, 10 every evening.”

“Okay, cool,” Mal said. “I mean, no offense to you, Jay.”

“None taken,” Jay said. “Speaking of the club: we’re almost there.”

Mal looked out the window, and stared.

She was in the truly upscale part of town, the districts where the skyscrapers and high-rises crammed with as many businesses and tenants as possible were replaced with finely crafted works of architecture housing five-star restaurants, exclusive clubs, and art galleries whose pieces were in the six digit range at the lowest, among many other establishments.

All had fronts, décor, and signage that said that whoever owned the place had money, that their patrons did, too, and neither were afraid to show it.

It wasn’t her first time being here, but then again, she hadn’t realized she’d ever be back here without riding in the back of her mother’s limos and being flanked by her armed goons first.

“Something up, Mal?” Evie asked.

Mal looked back at Evie. “I just… this place is…” she struggled for a few moments, before she just shut her mouth.

Evie smiled. “What can I say? I live for the finer things in life.”

The rest of the trip was made in silence but for the radio, until Jay pulled up to the driveway of a nightclub. As he got out of the driver’s seat and walked around to the other side, Mal took a good look at the decorations:

Palm trees, brightly coloured desert flowers and assorted plants, impressive Islamic-inspired architecture, all centered around a still, sparkling pool of water, like it was a palace built near a thriving oasis.

“Welcome to the Desert Rose,” Jay said as he opened the door for them. “Anything else I can do for you two, or should I just take my leave?”

“We’re good, Jay, thanks,” Evie said as she and Mal stepped out.

Jay nodded, before he slid over the hood of the car and back in the drivers seat. Mal watched him as he bolted away from the club, making his way down the tree-lined avenues as quickly as the speed limit allowed.

“Do people hit on his mom that much?”

“Let me put it this way: she’s the kind of woman that makes guys want to kneel before her, and girls realize they’re lesbians,” Evie replied. “But that’s for another time; for now, we head to the bar.”

“Let’s,” Mal replied.

Side-by-side, they entered a lobby, with security personnel dressed like harem guards straight out of Hollywood standing on either side of the doors leading into the club proper. Mal thought of making a joke as one of them came up to frisk them, but the sight of the shotguns they had instead of swords gave her second thoughts.

“Tight security you’ve got here…” Mal muttered after they got the all-clear.

“Our clientele pays for the peace of mind as much as the entertainment and the atmosphere,” Evie replied.

The guards opened the inner doors, and the two stepped into the Desert Rose proper.

Mal gawped as she stepped in and looked around: silken drapes and cushions, fancy patterned rugs, and what looked to be real hookahs, mixed with modern amenities like booths with leather-upholstered seating, digital screens on the wall displaying videos and artfully done posters advertising their shows and their entertainers, and of little screens with images of their drinks and the ladies.

The mood lighting and the other special effects were off, but it was still impressive.

“Very nice place!” Mal said. “I can _really_ tell that the only reason they hadn’t shunned me at the door or tossed me out into the fountain is because I’m with you.”

“It’s honestly one my favourite places in the world,” Evie replied. “Want me to give you a tour, starting with the bar?”

“Lead the way,” Mal said.

They went down one side, stepped through some curtains and into an astoundingly well-stocked bar, the shelves loaded with bottles whose labels and elegant designs just screamed, “The best of the best, older than you, and any one would be worth more than you will be in your entire lifetime.”

Even if it was the middle of the day, there was a bartender manning it. He had brown skin, black hair, and amber eyes, and wore a long-black trench-coat with an honest-to-goodness “supervillain” collar, as flashy, corny, and impractical as it got.

“What is this? A new face enters my domain,” he said as they approached. “No doubt you had heard of my skill, the expertise with which I can mix and brew, the masterpieces that have been birthed in here, my sanctuary…”

“We’re just here for the free drinks, Zevon,” Evie said as she calmly slid into one of the stools. “Sapphire Siren for me, please.”

“Bah!” Zevon said as produced a highball glass from under the counter and several bottles from behind him. “The way you you say, it’s as if the only reason you partake of my creations is from of the grace of Miss Kalila, not because they are glorious evolution of what we consider alcohol!”

Mal looked at him and the surprising speed and grace with which he started mixing and pouring, then back at Evie. “Mal, this is Zevon,” she said.

“You would do well to remember my name, for soon, it shall echo in the halls of history as the man—no, the _legend_ —that had elevated the art of bartending to new, never before seen heights!” he said as he served Evie her drink.

“Behold! The Sapphire Siren, deep blue like the sea she calls her home; watch her tendrils dance and draw the eye, but careful when you partake of her, for you might find she that once she has a hold of you, she will never let you go.”

Mal stared at Zevon for a few moments. “Is he for real?” she asked Evie. “Because I seriously can’t tell if this is an act, and he’s just _really_ good at keeping in character.”

“An act? _An act?!”_ Zevon spat. “This is not an _act!_ You know what is an act, a farce, a mere performance? What so many other establishments and even institutions peddle as ‘bartending.’ They merely imitate, the same old tired recipes over and over again, forever trapping us in the hell of predictability, keeping us from experiencing the new horizons that we could explore if only we all took the risk to innovate, like I do!

“So it is that I dedicate my whole life to my work, slaving away in my sanctum night and day, tirelessly working to innovate, to change our very perception of what constitutes a ‘drink!’”

“So you basically never leave this bar?” Mal asked.

“In simple, _woefully ignorant_ terms: yes,” Zevon replied with a nod. “As the sculptor spends most of their time in their studio steadily chipping away and carving their material, so I practice and hone my craft here.”

“Dude, there’s no shame in admitting you’ve got an alcohol problem, there’s tons of programs out there to get off the bottle,” Mal said.

Zevon looked offended. “Do you _really_ take me to be one of those fools hopelessly addicted to the bottle? Nay, I say, _NAY!_ I am not the _slave_ of these spirits, I am their _master_ , mixing and experimenting, making them _so much_ greater than the sum of their parts, opening the eyes of those who partake of them to new horizons they could scarcely imagine before our paths crossed!”

“Lightweight?” Mal asked discretely.

“Yep,” Evie replied.

Zevon didn’t notice. “But since you seem to have so much doubt in my abilities, I question whether or not I should even spare the effort of serving you… if already you take me as nothing more than a fox in the hen house, what good is it trying to convince you that I, too, can lay delicious, healthy eggs for breakfast?”

“Wait, what?!” Mal cried.

“The rules clearly state that the free drinks are for employees of the establishment plus one guest per night, and that I have the authority to cut said guest off using my good judgment. And last I know of, only the Sapphire Siren officially worked here,” Zevon said, gesturing to Evie.

Mal stared at him in a mix of disbelief and anger.

“Should you desire sweet alcohol, think twice before you insult the man with the keys to the liquor cabinet,” Zevon huffed.

Mal sighed. “Alright, I give: I am sorry for thinking you were an alcoholic, and ever doubting your skills, Zevon.”

Zevon beamed with pride. “Good! And for your show of humility, I have decided to show you what you could have missed out on if you had foolishly chosen your pride even if it would be to your detriment,” he said.

“Dude, seriously, you can just pour me a shot of vodka or three, I’m not picky!” Mal said.

“ **Silence!”** Zevon cried. “And let me do my work...” he mumbled, before put on a thoughtful face, and began to stare at Mal, muttering under his breath the whole while. “Purple hair, green eyes, pale complexion, definitely an outcast by choice...”

Mal tried not to be bothered, until his gaze became more intense. She quietly looked over at Evie, who just shrugged and mouthed, “Just go with it.”

“… Secluding herself to the darkest corners of the world, possibly whilst listening to songs that speak of the sorrow and outrage she feels...” Zevon continued muttering, his gaze now roaming up and down Mal’s body.

She scowled and crossed her arms over her chest.

“… Hmm, defensive posturing, interesting...” Zevon said, before slowly reaching out to her.

“You take your hand back, or mine’s going to get _real_ familiar with your face,” Mal growled.

Zevon quickly did. “… But still, a fire burns within, scorching those who dare wrong her.” He snapped his fingers, and turned around to the shelves of bottles behind him. _“I’ve got it!”_

Mal stared at him as he began to grab bottles, putting most of them back down and setting a chosen few on the counter. She turned to Evie and quietly said, “This better be worth it.”

“It will be,” Evie said, reaching out and touching Mal’s arm.

Mal flinched.

“Sorry,” Evie said as she took her hand back.

“It’s cool,” Mal muttered, before she turned her attention back to Zevon.

Bottles started flying through the air, their various liquids falling into all manner of glasses and containers, caught, twisted, and expertly set back on the counter with quiet thunks before they spilled, or shattered on the ground.

He started covering and shaking some, putting powders, cubes, and other assorted ingredients in others, the expression on his face calm, and his eyes cool as hands and arms moved about in a frenzy of activity.

Finally, he poured out the finished concoction into a highball glass, emerald green like Mal’s eyes.

She whistled. “Damn. Colour me impressed...” she muttered as she reached out for it.

“Wait!” Zevon said as he held out his hand.

Mal did. Zevon passed one hand over the rim of the glass.

_Fwoomph!_

Mal flinched as the drink burst into flames.

“Behold: the Emerald Blaze!” Zevon said as he pulled his sleeve up higher, concealing the lighter strapped to his wrist. “A fiery concoction to match the one within you. And word of advice, a lesson learned too late by many ignorant souls before:

“Blow the fire out BEFORE you drink it.”

“I already knew that, but thanks…” Mal said as she carefully picked it up.

Evie smiled as she did the same with hers. “A toast?”

“Sure,” Mal replied as she brought her glass to Evie’s.

“To misfits and outcasts like ourselves,” Evie said. “May we all find homes that aren’t broken, heal from the worst of our scars and issues, and maybe have relationships where all the fucking with is the fun kind.”

Mal smiled. “Here, here.”

They clinked glasses, Mal blew out the fire, and took a large swig of her drink.

Her eyes widened as what she could only describe as literal liquid fire came pouring down her throat, scorching everything on the way down, before it detonated the contents of her stomach with the force of a miniscule thermonuclear bomb.

“ _Fuck_ _me_ _!”_ Mal sputtered as she set her glass down on the counter with a clatter. The drink spilled over the rim, she pulled her hands away like it was molten magma.

“Oh _come on!”_ Zevon said as he pulled out a rag from his other sleeve. “This is one of my marvelous creations you’re wasting!” he said as he cleaned up the mess.

“Goodness!” Evie said as she reached out to Mal again. “You okay?” her fingers almost touched her once more, before she noticed, and pulled back.

Mal coughed and rubbed her chest. “Oh, I’m fine!” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “I’m pretty sure I just gave my insides third-degree burns, but I can already feel the alcohol surging into my system, so there’s that.

“Kinda nice to get exactly what I was told I’d be getting for once, you know?”

Evie frowned, and turned to Zevon. “Zevon, water, please,” she said.

“After she just wasted all my hard work?!” Zevon snapped..

“I’ll pay for it and the drink out of my next pay-day, alright?” Evie snapped back.

Zevon huffed, before he reached for a fridge under the bar. “Sparkling or regular, and any brand preference?”

“Just give me whatever your clientele considers tap water,” Mal muttered. Zevon handed her an elegant glass bottle with an appropriately striking, minimalist label, ones she thought were exclusive to incredibly expensive alcohol.

She stared at it for a moment, before she shrugged, pulled off the cap, and downed it like any other.

“Better?” Evie asked as she put it down.

Mal sighed. “Better… sorry for fucking up our toast and ruining the moment.”

Evie chuckled. “Mal, if I wanted a date that went absolutely perfect start-to-finish, I’d have asked my friends for a reputable escort service. But I’m not interested in the Girlfriend Experience—I’m interested in _you.”_

Mal blinked, stunned. “… Okay, first up, I’ve never realized that you could say something so incredibly sweet involving hookers. And second… can I kiss you? Because I feel like I should kiss you for that.”

Evie grinned. “I’d love it if you did,” she said, before she closed her eyes, leaned in, and puckered up.

“Don’t go slobbering all over each other, this is my sanctum you’re in, not a hotel room!” Zevon cried.

Mal shot him a dirty look, before she turned to Evie, and bit her lip; she started shaking as she puckered up and leaned in, eyes open just enough for her to make sure she was aiming for her lips like she intended.

Evie’s lips were soft and warm, the skin of Mal’s mouth tingling from whatever she put on them to make them look so luscious and tempting. She took a sharp breath, smelt apples and cinnamon; she’d been a die-hard strawberry fan for all this time, but maybe it was time to question if there was only room for one favourite scent.

Then Evie kissed back, Mal panicked and flew back, lost her balance and came crashing to the floor.

_Thud._

Unfortunately, the club’s floor was hard, unforgiving tile, a fact she was reminded of when the back of her head smashed against it.

She groaned in pain as Evie got up off her seat and helped her up. “This is it!” Mal said as she got back on her feet. “This is what you can expect, should you want to be keep dating me than be a three-episode special guest in the ongoing tragicomedy that is ‘Mal, the Useless Lesbian.’

“I am warning you now, things are not going to get any better,” she said as she was helped back into her seat.

Evie smiled as sat back in hers. “’Warning’ implies it’s a bad thing. Besides, we can work on your awkwardness, cut out all the bad parts that destroy your self-esteem, and keep the cute flailing about in a gay panic that just bruises your ego a little.”

“Gee, it is _very_ reassuring to me that you want to cultivate my personal issues in the ways that will be most entertaining to you,” Mal said flatly. Her eyes softened. “… Seriously though? Thanks for taking a chance on me.”

Evie smiled. “You’re welcome. Just know this isn’t going to be a fairy tale where I magically solve all your personal problems for you, alright?”

Mal paused.

Evie frowned. “Something the matter, Mal?”

“Eh, just got to relaizing how my friend Mabel is going to be _all over this_ once I tell her,” Mal replied. “It’s got everything she loves: unexpected romance, bonding over deep-seated personal issues, and strippers.”

Evie chuckled. “Sounds like my kind of gal. If you want us to meet, I’m game!”

Mal winced. “… Let’s just stick to helping me getting comfortable around just you for now, alright?” she asked as she slowly put her free hand out on the bar. She hesitated for a moment, almost pulling it back, before she put it down, her palm out.

Evie looked at her, smiled, and gently laid her hand atop hers. “Alright.”

She could feel Mal’s hand start to sweat and shake, but she didn’t pull away, which was a start.

* * *

“Hey, welcome back everyone!” Mr. Reckitt said as the students for his Monday/Thursday drawing class streamed into the room. “We’re doing female anatomy again, and on that note, we’ve got one of our previous models back thanks to popular demand. So for those of you that were bugging the admin to get Evie back? Know that your efforts paid off.”

“Please also know that you’re here to draw and hone your skills in art, not drool all over your canvas or spend the entire period thinking of a way to try and ask the model out.”

He spotted Mal sulking in at the tail end of the room, and hailed her over.

“Something wrong, Mr. Wreckitt?” Mal asked as she came over, her voice still plenty hoarse.

Mr. Wreckitt paused for a moment. “Yeah, we’re having Evie as our model again—you know, blue hair, brown skin, _really_ attractive? Just thought I should make sure you know given what happened last time.”

Mal smiled. “Oh, I know—she already told me, and trust me, it’s going to be… _better,_ this time.”

Mr. Wreckitt nodded. “Alright, if you say so. Hey, before you go, what happened to your voice?”

Mal winced. “It’s a long story, Mr. Wreckitt, and one you don’t need to know...”

“Alright then, just know that we’ve got water bottles to spare here, okay?”

“Thanks, Mr. Wreckitt,” Mal said as she returned to her usual canvas.

Evie strode into the room to cheers, whistles, and renewed faith in benevolent higher beings. Mr. Wreckitt shushed them all and waved his massive hands about, reminding them about the house rules about models, but she just kept smiling as she strode onto the podium, dropped her bathrobe, and got into that day’s pose.

The cool, confident look on Mal’s face disappeared as she looked away from her pencils and at Evie. Her jaw dropped, her hands began to shake again, and it started to get very difficult to focus as the blood in her brain started to be redirected elsewhere.

Evie broke her pose to give her a smile, before quickly turning her head before Mr. Reckitt noticed.

Mal paused, stunned. Then, she closed her eyes, took a few deep, calming breaths, and opened them again.

Evie was still as stunning and radiant as ever, but now she had the reigns of her libido firmly in her hands, before they could run lose and head to who-knows-what kind of distracting fantasies.

Mal smiled; she still wasn’t 100% at her game, her hand still being less stable than she’d want to, and her eyes focusing too much on certain parts of her, but at the very least, she was sure she could actually draw her this time and have it look like her, than a jumbled mess of lines vaguely in the shape of a person.

“And besides, you can stare at her all you want on Sunday...” she thought to herself as she started sketching.


End file.
